


Our Kisses

by EllieMarchetti



Series: Romance at Hogwarts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMarchetti/pseuds/EllieMarchetti
Summary: Fred and Hermione almost kiss at the Quidditch World Cup
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Series: Romance at Hogwarts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1519616
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	1. Our First (Almost) Kiss

“Don’t tell your mother you bet,” Mr. Weasley pleaded to Fred and George as everyone slowly descended the dangerously steep stairs.

“Don’t worry Dad, we have big plans for this money.” Fred replied cheerfully, winking at Hermione. Except for the twins, she was the first to know about their joke shop project and the only one to have defended them in front of Mrs. Weasley, earning her eternal antipathy and eternal gratitude from the boys. For a moment Mr. Weasley seemed intrigued by the exchange between what he could have called his _wrong_ son and the one who he had always considered Ron’s friend, but after a brief reflection he decided he didn’t want to know and went on to the outgoing crowd from the stadium to the campsite. Raucous songs rose in the night air along the path lit by lanterns and the Leprechauns kept darting over their heads, giggling and waving their candles. In order not to get lost, or at least that was what Hermione told herself, Fred squeezed her hand and let her go only when they reached the men’s tent, where they gathered to take a last cup of chocolate together before going to bed. Soon everyone found themselves arguing heatedly about the game: Mr. Weasley got Charlie dragged into an elbow dispute while the twins explained to a puzzled Hermione and a very interested but tired Ginny how to make the Wronsky Feint.

"If you want, one day, I can teach you how to fly properly.” Fred whispered to Hermione when Mr. Weasley sent everyone to bed. It was now a week that he was looking for any way, even the most stupid, to be alone with her but every time, despite George’s help, something always happened that didn’t allow him.

“Or maybe you could teach me now.” she replied as she got up. No one seemed to have heard their exchange and thanks to the twinkle in the boy’s eyes, Hermione knew she didn’t even have to think about wearing a pajamas because in less than half an hour Fred’s red head popped out of his tent and directly into hers.

“George lent me his broom, but he vowed to kill me if I mistreated her, so I think we should go somewhere quieter,” he said, alluding to the amount of people still celebrating. She looked at him incredulously but only once they had left she did ask why they _really_ had their brooms with them.

“We were afraid that mom could take them for the O.W.L. thing or if she had found our new experiments, you know, since she thinks we should focus more on study and she doesn’t like Quidditch that much, so we brought them with us. We did extensive spells on the backpacks that work a bit like the ones on the tents, but I guess you’ve already read about it, haven’t you?” he asked as they walked towards the grove, carrying both brooms, one in each hand. She nodded, confirming his suspicions, and went on to talk about the spells they should have made on the Muggle to make him forget all that noise until they reached a small, incredibly empty clearing. The space itself wasn’t much but Hermione imagined that Fred hadn’t planned to actually make her fly but only to teach her how to float without something like what happened to Neville when they tried it during the first year to happen.

"So,” he began, “to be honest, the basis are pretty simple and Madam Hooch should’ve already taught you, but many years have passed and… have you ever tried again?” he asked, curious, and she shook her head.

“As I thought. So, now, get close to the broom and hold the handle on the side of the hand you intend to use. I’m right-handed, so I keep it on the right, but George is left-handed, so he keeps it to the left,” he explained, positioning himself in the right way. “Extend your hand, but leave room to grab the handle, like this,” he said, approaching just enough to take her hand in his and move her fingers like a toy. Hermione let him do it but lost herself observing his studied movements, as if he had done it before.

“Good, now it’s just about willpower. Concentrate completely on the broom, on the fact that it rises from the ground and arrives perfectly parallel to the ground in your hand. When you can almost hear it, do it!”

And Hermione did it, convinced, despite the boy’s positiveness, that nothing would’ve happened, like it previously occurred, but unlike the first time, the broom splashed very quickly in her hand, almost destabilizing her.

“Very good!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, and so it was time to finally get on the broom, even though Fred pointed out that until she was sure he wouldn’t let her lift from the ground even by an inch. Hermione was grateful for his patience, and almost asked him if it wasn’t enough for a lesson, if he wasn’t tired and didn’t want to sleep at least a little before leaving the next day when she turned and found they were two inches apart, their lips so close together that the breath of one joined that of the other. Their eyes met and Hermione’s stomach started to do somersaults; she had begun to think of him that way shortly after the middle of the third year and had hoped that this feeling would subside during the summer, but it hadn’t happened, partly because he hadn’t failed to write nearly one letter a week , partly because in the few days she had spent at the Burrow they had done nothing but get closer and closer, and now he was there, so close that almost, as had happened with the broom, he could already feel his lips on her own and didn’t know whether to move and cover the distance that separated them or to wait and prolong that magic moment for as long as possible. Or there was a third option, that neither of them had considered, that had something to do with a scream of terror from the field that broke the glade’s peace.


	2. Our First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As any other normal Hogwarts student, in addition to homework and tests, Hermione and Fred's concerns include first dates, invitations to the Yule Ball and first kisses, all topped off with a good snowball fight.

Hermione and Fred hadn’t talked about what had happened to the World Cup and, to be honest, they hadn’t spoken in general: at the beginning it was the twins’ crazy idea to participate in the Tournament even though they weren’t old enough and the SPEW, then the fight between Harry and Ron and finally Rita Skeeter’s article where she said that Harry and Hermione had an affair but by now the first task was approaching and with it also that year’s first trip to Hogsmeade, so Hermione decided that the time had come to put an end to that farce and faced him Saturday morning as he went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

“But, what about Harry?” asked Fred when she asked if they could go together and after George and Lee had gone away. “Don’t you want to go with him?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that there’s nothing between me and Harry?” she asked, trying not to blush. It was with someone else that she would’ve liked to have an affair and she was astonished by the fact that the smartest Weasley hadn’t noticed it yet.

“So why would Rita Skeeter have to write it in her article?” he asked sharply.

“Don’t be stupid, did you see who her source was?”

That was Fred’s turn to blush.

“So? Can we go together?” she insisted. She didn’t want to spend the afternoon with Harry hidden under the Invisibility Cloak and besides, that seemed like a good way to finally have some time alone. Not that she expected to talk about what had happened during the World Cup: probably that was just a gesture dictated by the adrenaline of the moment, and even if it had been something more it was probably past, judging by all the time they had spent separated.

“Sure!” he hastened to answer. “I have to do something with George now, but I’ll see you later, okay?”

Hermione smiled enthusiastically, trying to keep looking at him and not at the girls lurking in the Common Room, who were starting to giggle and make the thumb up to encourage her.

“Perfect.” she answered, and as soon as the boy left she hopped to her friends.

“If Rita is at Hogsmeade this should be enough to make her correct the article, right?” asked Ginny, who had a crush on Harry since she’d met him, maybe even before, and that had already received a couple of letters from her mother, although she hadn’t wanted to tell her what the contents were, though Hermione could vaguely imagine it, given Mrs. Weasley’s intolerance for her. Surely it was what Hermione also hoped: maybe that plan would fix things and that damned journalist wouldn’t be able to ruin what could be born between her and Fred.

* * *

After the day at Hogsmeade that Fred refused to call a date because she had asked him out and he, for once, wanted to do things right, although George kept telling him it couldn’t be otherwise since he had brought her favourite chocolates at Honeydukes and he even paid her Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, he and Hermione spent much more time together: they studied, ate and even watched the first task together, but Fred seemed unable to actually ask her out. So the time passed, and McGonagall announced that the Yule Ball would be held on Christmas night.

“It’s your chance, don’t waste it” said George, who didn’t seem to realize that suddenly Hermione had been swallowed up by a pack of girls who kept whispering and giggling to each other. In addition, there were a few girls who wanted to go to the Ball with them, so Lee and George had to hurry to invite Leanna and Katie not to be overwhelmed by the young admirers who worshiped their jokes. The last week of the quarter became even more turbulent: everywhere there were rumors about the Ball, which didn’t reassure Fred, and although some of the professor gave up teaching them much when their minds were so obviously elsewhere others didn’t let a little thing like Christmas take them away from their duty, so he also found himself burdened with homework, especially from professor Snape. The only positive thing was that the Hogwarts staff, in the constant effort to impress the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang visitors, seemed determined to show the castle at its best for Christmas, and the decorations, the most extraordinary he had seen at school, helped a lot to create the atmosphere with which he wanted to ask Hermione to the Ball, occasion that presented itself sooner than expected: he had been spying on her all day, first at the break, then at lunch and finally when she was going to the bathroom, but she was always surrounded by friends, only he didn’t realize that it wasn’t a problem because he just needed to ask her to talk in private, if he didn’t wanted to look like a fool in front of all the girls in the school, who, after the Daily Prophets’ article suddenly seemed to wanting to be friends with the once bookworm.

“See you at dinner,” he said to George, and he ran down the stairs, crossing the corridors crowded due to the end of classes, finding her at the end of the stairs that led to the Potions classroom. So, just as he had imagined, he asked her if they could talk in private and invited her, but unlike what he had thought, she apologized saying she had already been invited by someone else.

“Who are you going with?” he asked, before fleeing like a coward.

“Oh… with Viktor” she replied “Viktor Krum.”

* * *

Despite the enormous quantity of homework, Hermione, which was usually extremely loyal to the duty, wasn’t in the mood to lean over books at the end of the quarter, and she spent the week before Christmas trying to have as much fun as she could with everyone else. The Gryffindor Tower was slightly less crowded than during the school year and sometimes it seemed that it had even shrunk, since its occupants were much more impetuous than usual, unlike her and Ginny, who sometimes wandered looking distraught as Fred, who had invited Angelina, and George continued to sell profusely their Canary Cream and Harry, who had invited Padma Patil, and Ron, spent their days playing chess and eating sweets.

“Why didn’t he invited me earlier? Your brother is a real idiot!” exclaimed Hermione, turning to Ginny while they were having breakfast on Christmas day. She was one of the few who knew that Krum had invited her to the Ball and had made her swear not to tell anyone, because, in case she changed her mind, she didn’t want Viktor to look like a fool. Obviously she too had been a fool not to accept Fred’s proposal, especially because she had studied that plan just in case he had invited her after she agreed to go with Viktor, yet last moment she had failed to disappoint her partner and perhaps she even wanted to make him go to the Ball alone, as a lesson, instead he had invited Angelina, who was beautiful, talented, funny and at least another dozen adjectives that Hermione would’ve never used to describe herself.

“Do you think they’ll start to date?” Ginny asked, and although Hermione didn’t know if she was referring to Fred and Angelina or Harry and Padma, the answer was still no, or at least she hoped.

“What if they kiss?” Ginny asked in horror. Hermione didn’t even want to think about it. She could hardly not relive the World Cup’s event before going to bed, she couldn’t believe he could do the same with another girl.

“You all know that I would’ve preferred if George had invited me, right?” Angelina had said during the sumptuous lunch, surprising everyone except Alicia. No, Hermione had never suspected that outgoing-Angie might like the quieter twin, but now that she knew it she couldn’t believe she didn’t realize it sooner. In the afternoon the four girls went out with the twins, Harry and Ron to play snowball, even if Hermione had never done it before, although it wasn’t as strange as they wanted it to look, since she had no siblings, unlike Ginny and Ron, and physical violence didn’t suit her, though the same couldn’t be said by those who played Quidditch. So they split into two apparently fair teams, made up by the twins, who choose Hermione and Angelina, while Harry and Ron had to settle for Ginny and Alicia. She wasn’t aware the fight had started until something wet and cold hit the back of her head and slid down into her cloak’s collar. She scooped up a handful of snow but she had no time to transform it into a ball that her target had already disappeared among the trees, although Fred avenged her a moment later, throwing another snowball that disappeared with a wet splat and a muffled curse, revealing that her attacker had been Ron. Ginny popped out from behind another tree, grinning broadly as she hit George before disappearing again.

“Is magic allowed?” Hermione asked, searching for her wand.

“Of course!” exclaimed Fred, waving his, and a few snowballs began to lob themselves at Harry. When the boy tried to fight back, Hermione also waved her wand and the snow in front of them formed a small wall that protected them from all the attacks. Fred’s jaw dropped but he quickly lowered behind the wall to shelter himself from Alicia’s deadly attacks.

“That’s it, Spinnet, you’re going down!” Angelina exclaimed, aiming her wand at the trees. The snow that fell as easily as if she had shook them herself transfigured into at least ten ball, but the other girl countered directing them at her friend, that tried to dodge them with extreme agility, though she was hit enough times to get her hair wet.

“I withdraw!” she exclaimed, and so did Ginny and Alicia. Hermione, on the other hand, was enjoying herself too much to leave right now, so she moved into Harry’s team and they started all over again. The snowball struck her on her left shoulder, sending up a white spray onto her face. She blinked the worst of it out of her eyes and whirled to see Fred grinning cheekily at her from a good twenty yards away across the courtyard.

“Oh no you don’t,” she called out, scooping up her own handful of snow to hurl back at him. The boy dodged and made fun of her for having missed him. Their fight took them more toward the lake, as they run and jumped and weaved to avoid each other’s snowy missiles. Breathless with laughter and exertion, Hermione had almost caught up to Fred and was about to hurl her next snowball when he turned and hit her on the nose. With a muffled yell she slipped, lost her footing, and fell over.

“You all right?” Fred asked, running up, looking concerned. Using the hand on the opposite side from him, she scooped up some snow, and before he could run away, she washed his face with it. Fred spluttered and protested jokingly and Hermione, on pure impulse, kissed him. She didn’t care that from there the whole Durmstrang delegation could see her, nor that she would be late for the Ball if she didn’t hurry to get ready: the only thing that upset her was the possibility that Fred was no longer interested in her, that he had considered what had almost happened at the World Cup a mistake. So she pulled away quickly, fearing to see shock or even disgust on his face, but instead met a pair of pleased and a little surprised eyes. Then Fred pulled her down again and kissed her back, before letting go with an embarrassed sort of laugh.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages.”

Hermione laughed a little as well. “Me too.”


End file.
